Chapter 197 - It Was. That's What I Thought.
Vansento had made the best possible plan for the given situation. Or rather, he had made a plan. After killing the escorts—that bastard Enkrid and his party—he would seize the opportunity to join hands with Martai and overthrow the city. He had even added that this should have been done a long time ago.
But that Vansento was now a body that could no longer speak. A man whose head was split open and buried in the ground has nothing to say.
"Let's go."
Enkrid searched the two corpses and the carriage, took what was worth taking, and then dug a hole to bury the bodies.
'Not bad.'
A hefty pouch of gold coins, a few jewels besides. There were also a few black stones whose purpose he didn't know. The black stones didn't seem to be jewels, but he felt a strange energy the moment he saw them. Would they sell? Thinking they might be convertible to gold, he took most of them.
He dumped the gold coins and other items into his backpack and even took the black daggers the escort had used. He had taken everything there was to take, to the point where he felt like he had cleaned them out completely.
"I feel like a bandit," Enkrid said.
"The Enkrid Bandit Group. How about starting one when you get out of the army?" Rem offered a pointless joke. Despite his words, he wasn't the type to rob common folk.
Without resting, Enkrid and his party began to move immediately. As they moved, Dunbakel, naturally, had to follow, tied to the rope. There was no chance to escape. She had told them about the ambush site. And even though she had said some of the Black Sword's core forces would be there, they were overflowing with confidence.
"Rough wilderness, black sun, shattering earth, breaking sky."
While walking, the man named Rem began to sing a song one might hear in the western pioneer lands. It wasn't a particularly good song, but Rem's voice was surprisingly excellent.
"Breaking the sky and running to bring ruin."
As he listened with one ear and let it out the other, he could hear the other two chattering up ahead.
"The swordsmanship movements, how did you master them, sir?"
"I memorized them all."
It seemed like a difficult question, yet the answer was clear. The blond man who had asked the question mumbled for a while. He seemed to be choosing his words. Then, he spoke abruptly.
"Reaching out with your left hand is to send the opponent to the right. You must not ignore the meaning of the movements."
"Yeah. I get it."
The commander named Enkrid nodded.
'He gets it?' Dunbakel was simply bewildered. She wondered what on earth they were talking about.
Enkrid continued to speak. "You're saying there's meaning in the steps and in the hand that holds the sword, right?"
At those words, the blond man nodded his head. Lightly, cheerfully.
"That's right, sir. There is meaning in every movement."
She couldn't understand the details of their conversation, but she knew one thing.
'It's about swordsmanship.'
Dunbakel was still just bewildered. Why were they so relaxed? Something ticklish stirred in her chest. Dunbakel couldn't tell exactly what it was, but one thing was clear. A curiosity surged up. A curiosity about what in the world these people were.
Listening to Ragna's words, Enkrid had a small epiphany. They were words he needed right now. Ragna had grasped it from a single battle and had told him. His speaking skills were terrible, so he had said it clumsily, but…
'As long as I understand it well, it's fine.'
There was no problem. Enkrid, in turn, repeated the lesson by putting it into words and organizing it.
'Every movement in swordsmanship has a meaning.'
It was right to grasp all of those meanings. There was also something he had felt while facing the beastkin earlier. The harmony of the Valen-style Mercenary Swordsmanship and a formal sword style. In the end, it is the one holding the sword who decides how to wield it.
'To understand and embody it.'
If he understood it all, he could dismantle and use it, and he could pull out the necessary movement at the necessary moment. Ragna's words began with the meaning of movements, but for Enkrid, the end came back to his attitude toward learning swordsmanship.
"The heavy sword style… when you fully understand the sword you've just learned, then…" Ragna said from the side.
"After I understand what I have now and embody it," Enkrid added.
The two looked ahead and nodded.
"I told you there's an ambush up ahead."
Rem had finished his song, and the conversation with Ragna was also over. The beastkin spoke from behind. No, she asked. There was force in her voice. She didn't hide her bewilderment.
"What was your name again?" Enkrid asked, turning his head slightly. She wondered how many times he was going to ask, but the beastkin answered with an expression that said her name didn't matter.
"Dunbakel."
"Right, Dunbakel."
Enkrid tried to explain. Why they were heading straight for the ambush site, why they were taking the risk. Enkrid did not consider the ambush ahead to be a crisis. Why?
Who had conveyed his and his party's strength to the other side? It would have been the dead noble and his escort. All the Black Sword raiders were dead, and the only survivor was the beastkin. If this beastkin had secretly passed on a message, it would be a different story, but…
'There's no sign of that at all.'
He hadn't given her a chance, but there are things you can feel just by looking. It was a golden eye mixed with doubt, curiosity, and something like longing. The beastkin named Dunbakel was just asking. Why were they heading to the ambush site?
The answer was simple. If a small elite force was waiting without having grasped their side's strength…
'Then an ambush isn't really an ambush.'
Of course, all these calculations could go wrong, and they could end up in danger. That probability always exists. What if the Black Sword had gone half-mad and committed more than half of their forces here?
'No way.'
The probability of that was too low. As Krais acknowledged, Enkrid didn't use his head much, but when he did, it worked pretty well. The expression was a bit grating, but it wasn't a bad thing. Enkrid himself knew that well.
'If it were me.'
If he were the leader of a group like the Black Sword, he would send exactly double the force he had sent before. That alone would be enough. If he were still worried, he would add someone whose specialty was murder rather than fighting.
So, the composition of their forces would be off from the start. He wasn't the only one here; Rem and Ragna were here too. Ragna, who was yawning wide and muttering about being sleepy, and Rem, who was kicking a rolling stone as he walked—neither of them showed any tension at all. For now, both of them were still overwhelmingly stronger than Enkrid. So, it was a miscalculation of their strength.
This is what Enkrid believed. Dunbakel repeatedly saying there was an ambush ahead was a question of why they were just walking forward. There was an answer to that, but to explain it all would take too long, and there was no need to convince the golden-eyed beastkin before him.
"If you're asking why we're going to a place where there's an ambush, it's just because." He paused for a moment, looked at her longing eyes, and added one more thing.
"Because I want to swing my sword more."
It wasn't a lie. He had made his calculations, but it was also a desire he held in his heart.
At those words, Dunbakel's golden pupils trembled wildly.
"...Why."
Why for such a reason? But it was also right because of such a reason. The teachings of Krimhalt surged up from the depths of her heart like a fountain and struck her in the head. It was as if someone had slammed a bell right next to her ear with a clang.
'In the end, I shall bloom and wither on the battlefield.'
Krimhalt, the god she believed in, had told her to bloom and wither on the battlefield. The man before her was about to do just that. At the same time, the words of the old fortune-teller she had heard when she was kicked out of her village also came to mind.
"In the future, when you wish to die, a guide will be by your side."
At the time, she had thought it was just a word of pity offered out of compassion, but now it was a little different. Dunbakel had prepared for death, but she had lived. Whose whim was that because of? It was because of the man before her.
A gentle wind began to grow amidst the jealousy, envy, and admiration in Dunbakel's heart.
'I want to have this man's child.'
In reality, it would probably be impossible. A half-breed of a beastkin and a human is not easily born. The wish was not singular.
'I want to stay within this group.'
I want to be by his side. I want to learn his way of life. I want to die by his side.
A complex and subtle desire set her heart ablaze. Enkrid glanced at her eyes and…
'What's with her eyes now?'
He had seen so many crazed eyes lately that he thought he had gotten used to it, but this was the first time he had seen eyes like these. Should he call them alluring, yet intense?
"But why didn't Esther come along?" Rem asked abruptly as he was looking at the beastkin named Dunbakel's eyes.
Averting his gaze, Enkrid answered Rem. "How should I know? Our Esther is a fickle one."
Enkrid said it as a joke, and Rem chuckled. "If Esther heard that, she'd probably draw a musical score on the commander's face. But it's not like you're wrong."
Sometimes she acted like she would never leave his arms, and other times she would leave the barracks on her own and not return for days. Looking at Esther's behavior, the word 'fickle' seemed to fit her perfectly.
The group, walking at a leisurely pace, climbed a small hill. A few small trees came into view, and soon there were enough trees to block the view on either side. The path was also messy. There were things like chunks of rock sticking out of the dirt. Ants moved in a line between them, carrying things like dead insect carcasses. They moved diligently.
It was not a good path for walking. As they walked, it felt less like a hill and more like a small mountain. Originally, after crossing this place, it was a two-day walk to the promised location, the place where the envoy and the Black Sword were supposed to meet. Of course, it was a promise that was now meaningless.
Rustle.
The leaves rustled in the wind, and sunlight filtered through them. It was a good day. The wind was not so stuffy, and the sunlight, shielded by the leaves, was not so hot. After going a little further, a clearing came into view, and behind it was a mixture of dense leaves and thorny bushes. Thus, it was a clearing with no further path. A dead end.
"This is as far as you go."
About ten men were visible inside the clearing. One of them spoke. Three women and seven men. Among them was a man with an axe, a man who just stared with his hands hanging loose, a man sitting on a moderately large rock and looking clean, and even a man sitting on a branch right above him. They were a diverse bunch.
A chilly air passed between them. The man who had spoken glared, and Enkrid and his party stopped walking.
Now, what to do?
Tension filled the air. In the midst of it, Enkrid's mouth opened.
"Wow, it's an ambush."
It was a theatrical tone. And his acting skills were terrible.
"Wow, we've been had," Rem also said.
"Oh my, what a surprise," Ragna uttered a similar phrase. As he spoke while rubbing the sleep from his eyes, it really would look like he was surprised.
Dunbakel, watching this, was still bewildered. A sudden play here?
"To think they'd wait for us here. What meticulous fellows," Enkrid continued. The sight of him cleaning his ear while discussing their meticulousness was impressive.
"A completely unexpected moment. My knees are shaking," Rem said, picking his nose. Rem's face didn't lose its handsomeness even when he picked his nose.
"I was so surprised I almost bit my tongue," Enkrid said, chewing on a piece of candy.
Crunch.
That must be sweet. But where did that candy come from? That thought naturally occurred to Dunbakel as she watched.
"Ugh, I want to run away," Enkrid said. Rem, who was always serious about teasing others, played along.
What were the two of them doing? It was a provocation. Dunbakel herself was getting annoyed just listening to them grate on the opponent's nerves the moment they saw them. So, what about the opponent?
"Are they madmen?" a man who showed his bewilderment. "You all must be dying to die, huh?" a woman who was feigning composure. "They're going to die anyway," a man who wasn't even interested in them in the first place. "These motherfuckers?" and even a man who was angry.
Seeing their reactions, Enkrid nodded and looked at Rem. Rem also looked at Enkrid, snorted, and nodded. The two seemed quite pleased with the opponent's reaction.
"Don't run away, stay here," the blond with red eyes, the man named Ragna, said before pulling her back.
If there was a moment to run, it would be now. But instead of running, Dunbakel chose to watch. She wanted to know, she wanted to see. What were these three trusting in to have come this far? The opponent was a force to be reckoned with even within the Black Sword. Dunbakel still did not properly know the skills of Enkrid, Rem, and Ragna.
"In all my life, I've never seen guys like these. Seeing as Vansento is nowhere to be seen, you must have taken care of him. Did you come knowing we were waiting?"
It was a man with a bushy beard in the front. His weapon was a poleaxe. The tip was sharp, and the axe blade attached to the side of the spearhead was the size of a palm. Just from his stance, holding it at an angle, he looked like a formidable opponent. If one were to be caught by that axe blade, their skull would burst like a ripe fruit.
"How did you know?" Enkrid asked.
"...You have a natural talent for teasing people, don't you?" the poleaxe-wielder said, his eyes wide.
Rem chuckled and said, "Correct! In all my life, this is the first human I've seen with such a venomous tongue!"
Enkrid felt it was unfair. "I was just being sincere." Of course, there was a slight intention to tease the opponent, but wasn't it a natural thing to say in a situation like this? How did you know? That was it. It was just right.
"So, instead of trying to win with your tongue, it would be right to come at me with a blade, wouldn't it?" Rem said, as if concluding the situation.
The poleaxe-wielder furrowed his brow. He hesitated for a moment, just a moment.
'They came knowing about the ambush?'
There was no time for long deliberation.
"What is there to think about!"
A fighter was the first to move. He wore knuckles with flat iron plates on both fists. It was a trick and a provocation that Enkrid had set up, thinking the opponent might be suspicious and hesitate. So, the opponent's reaction was a result he had hoped for.
Seeing the fighter step forward, the poleaxe-wielder could no longer hold back.
'First, kill them.'
The Black Sword force gathered here was a force to be reckoned with in this branch. Excluding the branch leader, they were even called the Ten Swords. To the extent that when the ten of them gathered in this area, they didn't think they would lose to anyone. As long as the opponent wasn't a knight order, that is.
In the current situation, the Crimson Cloak Knight Order couldn't possibly come, so the poleaxe-wielder had taken on the job, thinking it was a surefire victory.
It was. It had been. That's what he had thought. Until just before the fighter and the man with the axe exchanged their first blows.